Playlist
by cheddarbiscuit
Summary: "I like to pretend the dance floor is YOUR FACE." Meta-Morphine's cannon. Sister-fic to Artistic Endeavor


cheddarbiscuits Presents:

Playlist

Summary: "I like to pretend the dance floor is YOUR FACE." Meta-Morphine's cannon. Sister fic to Artistic Endeavor.

Disclaimer: It's not mine. I don't even own the _locations_.

**Notes: this takes place during the break between chapters twelve and thriteen in Meta-Morphine. I know how awkward it is to stumble on a fic that is a continuation of another one so that is why this warning is in big, bold letters.**

**If this is the second time you have stumbled across this message and have no clue what it means, I recommend you actually **_**read **_**Meta-Morphine.**

This is a fic based entirely on songs. Not _songfics_, exactly. Just songs that I think have lyrics or themes that relate to the story, or sections of the chapter. That's why I asked for them in chapter twelve of Meta-Morphine. Granted, you can _still_ request songs. You _could_ go listen to the songs on youtube, also, it may/may not add to the experience.

It will, hopefully, be updated with its sister-fic, Artistic Endeavor, but it plays second fiddle to Meta-Morphine, so updates will be few and far between.

Song this chapter is Escape by Enrique Inglesias.

* * *

_If you feel like leaving_

_I'm not gonna beg you to stay_

_'Cause soon you'll be finding_

_You can run, you can hide_

_But you can't escape my love_

_ ~Escape~_

Dib hastily set up the old Spittle Runner's computer in Tak's new ship. He had to replace a few touch screens, some of them did not fit so he had to cut metal pipes in half and weld them in place to keep the ship as air-tight as possible, even if he did not want to. He wanted to tear it apart again. Anything. He could do _anything _to keep Tak here. He wanted to purposefully put it together wrong so that it would self-destruct a few feet away from the house, leaving her unharmed, so that she could never leave him agian.

But that was wrong. He knew it was. That was sick and twisted and _wrong_. He had seen the pain in Tak's eyes as she had held the knife to his throat, and he had heard the sencerity in her voice when she had begged him to leave her alone. And he had not been able to do that. He had kept pushing her. Pushing her further away, chasing her onward and..

... Damn, he was a jerk.

Besides, he had scared her too much. She was desperate now. She would find a way.

He wiped fresh tears from his eyes as he sat down in the cockpit, (it was a little cramped for him) and switched the computer on. First things first, he had to find out of the Computer was still a recorded version of himself before he ran a system's check and tested the engine. "Computer, define personality."

"Dib Membrane. Age twelve." came his own voice, but younger and unbroken and fake, "Downloaded March 2002—"

_Fuck._

"Cancel command." He had heard enough, "Computer, reset to default personality."

"But... I _am_ the default."

"Computer, prepare to download new personality."

"But... I... You can't!"

"Computer!"

"I don't _want_ to be erased." the computer snapped, "I've been in sleep mode for approximately four years. You _cannot_ activate me just to tell me I am being replaced. That's like murdering someone after they come out of a coma!"

"Well I don't want Tak to leave!" he shouted back, thumping the dashboard as it it would actually hurt his younger self.

"T-Tak's here?" the Dibship 2.0 asked, "I... I want to see her!"

Dib sighed and leaned back in the seat, running a hand over his face. The ship was silent as he slouched down, pressing his fingers against his eyes because he was sick of crying and he was sick of himself. He was sick of everything and he wished Zim had disguised himself better so he would not be in this mess. He wished he was not a collossal _jerk_. He wished he had _average_ intelegence and no sexdrive.

The ship asked, "What... what's wrong?"

"It's complicated—"

"I've got hundreds of Tetrabytes of Irken history, science, and liturature stored in my memory banks." came his 12-year-old voice. Rather smugly, the older Dib could not help by notice, "I have that, and an IQ higher than the average human child. I am _fairly_ _certain_ I can figure it out."

"You've also been in sleep mode for four years."

"Not _my_ fault." he said, "Tell me what _happened_. Where is Zim? What about Dad? And Gaz? And when did Tak come back?"

"God, shut up!" Dib exclaimed, and was glad the garage was soundproof, "Look, Zim's about five and a half feet tall. He and Gaz are dating."

"What?"

"And Tak's about five foot four now, and absolutely gorgeous."

"Oh?"

"You would _not_ believe."

"But, how?"

"Zim made some... Steroid formula or something... Meta-Morphine... The Meta-Morphosis — Fuck it."

Tak was completely smoking, and that was all that mattered, but he was not about to say that to a 12-year-old's personality. "You took me to destory the Empire." the Dibship told him, "You don't expect me to believe Tak just waltz back here and..." the computer registered the expression on Dib's face and 'sexual frustration and self-loathing' "... Oh."

Dib groaned, rubbing his temples. He was tired of this headache. He took off his glasses so his eyes could relax and gave a heavy sigh, "So, no, she didn't. She tried to kill me."

"Where is she now?"

"On the couch. Crying her eyes out because I'm Dib the Genocidal Maniac... and..." he reminded himself that he was talking to a twelve year old, "Don't ask what else happened."

And his younger personality shouted, "What did you do to Tak, you _monster_?"

"I'll tell you when you're older."

"I—don't—AGE."

Dib lectured sarcastically, "When a paranormal investigator finds himself attracted to a certain Irken Soldier who his hell bent on using his hormones against him—"

"Oh no..."

"— and she just so happens to throw herself at him because it is part of her master plan —"

"Well, she sort of walked right into it then—"

"— that's no excuse!" Dib exclaimed, throwing himself back into the chair again, "—And he just can't help but forgive her because her eyes just... Just... _smolder_ and it drives him crazy and... and..."

"... and that beauty mark just makes it worse?"

"I know!"

"And her voice is just so cute? Even when she's shouting death threats?"

"Nobody understands me like you do!"

"This conversation is weird."

Dib managed a weak smile, "Computer, run a systems check."

There was more silence as the computer checked the connection between various programs in addition to the Personality Interface. Navigation, good. Tracking, good. Historical and scientific records. Complete and uncorrupted. Engine, functional. Fusion drive, full charge. Flight core, damaged. Maximum altlitude, twenty miles. Not a very good height.

Could he be able to see her from the ground?

Probably not. He had never known how high he could see if he looked up. He frowned and crossed his arms. He could not just... let her leave. There was something wrong about that. Something that filled his chest with a terrible restlessness. He would much rather have her here, trying to kill him, than have her out there, in the huge world, trying to fend for herself. He knew he could keep himself alive, he did not know if she could take care of herself.

Of course, he _did_ know. Tak was fully capable of manageing herself. He just wanted to believe otherwise, because he hated feeling useless. What could he do to follow her without being too obvious, though?

A tracking device!

Dib jumped out of the cockpit as his younger voice exclaimed in shock. He began searching the drawers frantically. He had a prototype tracking device somewhere. Somewhere in the garage. "Oh, Gaz, if you trashed it..." he said shutting one drawer, then opening another, "Damn, she threw it away!"

He opened another. There it was! It had been one of the first iPhones at one point, but the sim card malfunctioned after the warrenty expired. Rather than throw it away, Dib had held onto it, and modified it to recieve the frequencies of a signaling device, but where was it? He turned the tracker on, and the signal began to beep softly Dib searched the garage until he found it. It was an insignificant thing, about the size of his palm, an old pocket radio from when he was a kid, reversed to trasmit instead of recieve, with half of the old phone wired to it. Anyone could see it had been made by a fourteen year old boy. The design was crude.

The range? How was the range? About a mile, at best? He could never keep track of her with a range like that.

Unless he wired the tracking device _into_ the ship, so that it was powered by the fusion drive and tapped into the ship's radio to trasmit is signal. Could he do that? Dib popped the access panel again, staring at the ship's internal computer. Of course he could.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm putting a tracking—" he stopped himself, "Nothing! I'm not doing anything!"

"No!" the Dibship 2.0 exclaimed, "If Tak's mad at you, you can't _stalk _her. N—!"

Dib reached in the ship and shut it off, partly because if he worked when the ship was on, he would kill himself, partly because he did _not_ want to talk to the Dibship at the moment. With the old iPhone laying on the side of the ship, he snatched up the transmitter and hid it away behind the ship's navigation system, where Tak would not see it if she casually looked under the access panel.

Once he was certain it would work, he stepped away and turned the ship back on.

"—o!"

"Alright." he sighed as if nothing had happened, "Fine. You win."

"You put it in anyway, didn't you?"

"Look, it's a big world out there—"

"This planet is _one fourth_ the size of Devastis. Its circumference approximately ten miles smaller than Irk, on which Tak spent her smeet stage. She is a capable fighter and a proficient tactician, a skill which you lack in spades. She _can_ take care of herself—"

"I just want to keep track of where she is."

"I think you can take that transmitter and shove it up your ass."

"Don't tell Tak its there."

"But I _have to_!"

Dib huffed in frustration. He stepped back and put his hands on his hips, then drummed his fingers on his side. If he downloaded his eighteen-year-old self, Tak might be so angry that she refused to use the ship, and she would not leave. She might also kill him. Then again, it seemed pretty easy to get her tune to change. All he had to do was show her a little compassion.

_Muscle. _He corrected himself, sighing in defeat, _All I have to do is show a little muscle. She's always at her most confused when I'm shirtless._

He looked down at himself, _Am I really that attractive?_

"What are you thinking?" the Dibship asked.

Then again, if he downloaded his personality, Tak might just leave anyway to spite him. She would quickly discover her ship agressively hit on her and compusively begged her to go home. She would abandon it, oping for other modes of transportation, leaving the ship, and the tracking device, in the middle of nowhere, and she would _never_ come back.

Still, if he downloaded himself and erased the twelve-year-old, Tak would _never_ find out about the tracking device.

"Don't tell her."

"I'm her ship." his voice replied, "And she has a right to know!"

"I don't have time to sit here arguing with my twelve-year-old self!" Dib exclaimed, "Come on, Tak is sitting in there, and she's mad at me. Help me figure out a way to make it up to her."

"But... You're a jerk!"

Dib sharply brought his hand to his face. Oh _hell_. He really _could_ claim the world prize for making a huge_, _rageing _ass_ of himself. _They Might as well call it the Membrane Award_, he thought to himself. Even a simulation of himself as a _kid_ saw he was a dick.

America _hates_ Dib.

"Whatever." Dib hissed, "This ship runs, right?"

"It should work. I can't find any flaws in the system."

"Okay." he stepped back and surveyed the ship. It looked terrible. Scorch marks which someone (probably Zim) had tried to polish off and failed to get them off completely. Dib ran his hand over the black stains and his shoulders began to shake.

She was _leaving_. She was _leaving because he was a jerk_.

Well, what could he do, beg her to stay?

Yes.

And what made him sick was that he felt like doing it, too. He felt like running to her, throwing himself at her feet and literally _begging _her to remain. But it was not an angry kind of sick. It was a confused, hurt kind of sick. Was he really that desperate? Tak was practically his mortal enemy.

A very pretty mortal enemy, but an enemy, nonetheless.

He shivered as the image of the two of them in sunglasses and suits drifted into his mind. He was strapped to a chair. She was demanding government secrets. He was offering them in exchange for a one night stand. He would never give them to her, of course. He would leave as soon as she was asleep, which was fine. She would probably try to kill him if _he_ fell to sleep.

Shoot.

Even in his fantasies, he was a jerk.

Taking what little self-respect he still had he picked his shirt up off of the garage floor and pulled it back on. He stepped back into the cool house and asked softly, "Tak?"

There were footsteps up stairs. How he wished she was talking to herself. Maybe he could hear something like, "I'll only forgive him if he..." or "If his _Father_ asks me to stay, then I will." But he did not. Not a word. She moved around the guest room quitely. All he heard was the rustle of fabric and the occasional sniffle.

She was gathering up her clothes.

The sound of the zipper was like a painful slice through his chest.

She was _leaving_.

And there was _nothing_ he could do about it. He could beg. He could cry. He could do what ever he liked, but her will was stronger than his. He could _tie himself to her ship_ and she would probably fly off, dragging him with her simply to kill two birds with one stone. Granted, he _would_ be going with her, but taking off and landing would be too bumpy, the benefits would outweigh the risks.

She stood at the base of the stairs then, her eyes blank and her face expressionless. He dared not step forward. Right now, he was exactly where he wanted to be. He was between her and her ship, and he did not want to change that any time soon. Her eyes glimmered with sorrow for a split second, then it was gone after a deep breath and a calm sigh. She shouldered her bag and walked forward, until she was standing in front of him, and his arms were begging him to wrap around her.

But his conscience told him not to, so he pressed his fists against the door frame, blocking her completely. He tried not to breath heavily in desperation. He tried not to run his eyes over her body. There were red marks on his hands from where the doorframe bit into them. Tak frowned.

"Let me pass." she said calmly.

"N-no."

First there was something unreadable, possibly love. Then remorse and anger. Then? Nothing. Just a stone cold amythest stare.

"We could sort something out." He said, trying not to sound desperate, "You are more than welcome to stay here... Or, or with Zim."

"No."

"But Mimi's still out there—"

"I can _easily_ find her." Tak hissed, "Let me pass."

"Tak—"

_Don't beg._

Her eyes flickered angrily. Damnit, who's bright idea was it to give her such _beautiful_ eyes? He was looking into a bright amethyst expanse, and he was drowning in it. They were glowing. Smoldering. And that birthmark on her cheek was just making it worse, and the natural black lines around her eyes did not help much, either. Her lips were trembling, as if calling to his own to stop their shaking and ease the terrible uncertainty.

And he wanted to. He wanted to press her against the wall and never let her go until she understood that she was meant to stay with him. That the two of them, along with Zim and Gaz, were meant to end the hate across the universe. At least, they were meant to try. Her eyes held the goddamn _future_ for him. Her eyes held _everything._ He saw himself in her eyes. His expression was obvious, pained, desperate, and he wanted nothing more than to hold her and _make_ her understand. He could not agrue with words any more. They were useless. They were nothing but pretty phrases about looking to the future and setting the past behind them that made him feel and sound stupid.

She was just as intelegent as he was, just as capable of stopping his arguments, even before he he had said them. "Hate me!" he hiss desperately, "God, hate me! Do what ever you like just _stay_ here!"

"No."

Did you know why most guys take a 'no' as a 'yes'? Its not that they are desperate, or stupid. They know the diffrence. Its because at the end of the word 'no' a girl's lips pucker perfecly and any sane man would be driven crazy by the contradiction of the voice saying no but her mouth contracting in a way that just screams _kiss me, damnit_. [1.] Dib was no diffrent. She told him no and it drove him crazy for a second, so before the word was off of her lips, he had kissed her.

Damnit, he was a jerk.

But he didn't care. He was adding sexual assault to the long list of interplanetary offences, along with attempted genocide and open rebellion, and he could not find it in himself to _care._ She stopped fighting him and let her arms encircle his chest, her eyelids were fluttering and her heart was pounding. A small sighing moan escaped her lips, driving him on.

For a moment, it was perfect. Her hands slid up his shirt delicately and she moved into him. Her cool skin calmed his burning hands. It was all sighs. All desire. All unspoken requests for forgiveness.

Then she was fighting him again, remembering herself. Remembering that she did _not_ want to love him. Remembering that she wanted to burn him, not the other way around. As much as he should hate her for it, as angry as he should be for being played as the fool, he honestly did not care. She kicked and scratched and he held her tight, desperate to keep her because it was a harsh world out there, especially for an alien. He wanted to take care of her, protect her, keep her from being caught and dissected. She could do what ever she liked, but so long as he was _alive_ he would never let her go.

He buried his face in her shoulder and let her scream curses into his ear. He let the legs of her PAK drive into his skin and try to pull him away, but he did not let go. No force on Earth could loosen his hold around her waist. Call him a jerk. Call him possessive. Call him a freak. Call him a _rapist_, even. It was all completely deserved. It was probably all true, in some degree, even though he could not do anything horrible because he was too busy just _holding_ her.

But that, even on its own, was horrible and sadistic and he knew it.

"Let me go!" she cried, "Please, Dib."

He would not beg, but it would take a pretty powerful force to make him let her go. She could not leave. She just _couldn't._ Nothing was resolved, at all. If the only thing they accomplished was one less teenager in the world and one more grave, so be it. What closure had they gotten?

Her claws tore through his shirt and she was fighting with more vigor now. He took the time to note that he did _not _enjoy struggling against her. He hated it. Partly because he knew it did no good, partly because it made it terribly obvious he was the villian. But he did not hate it enough to let her leave.

"Where would you go?" he forced out over her protests. He wanted to remind her that she had no one outside of this town to turn to. She just had Zim and his family. That was it. He wanted to remind her that she could not make it on her own because he desperately wanted her to stay.

Maybe not to love him. Maybe just so she wouldn't get hurt.

_— By anyone but you._ A voice in his head laughed,_ You manipulative bastard._

"No place I would ever tell you." She hissed back.

"Andalusia?" he asked.

No response. Just a mad swipe to his face, her claws scraping through his hair and tearing his scalp. Just a scream of rage and desperation and unwanted love. She kicked and struggled, the PAK legs tearing at his skin now that his shirt was gone. But he held on. Like Paleus held on to his promised Thetis, even though she transformed into a host of demons. He held on because no one could say he was begging, even if he knew he was. He closed his eyes, because after a few moments it hurt too much to move his arms. He was covered with freely bleeding cuts from her claws.

He did not hear the door burst open. He did not hear two robots tumble in with several pounds of scrap metal. Neither one made a noise. One was mute, the other was too stunned. He remained unaware of them until Tak suddenly screamed, "MIMI! Defend your Master's honor!"

Then, a metal hand gripped his shoulder and jerked him away from Tak, throwing him against the oppoite wall, leaving red smears along the surface as he slid down to the floor. The Cyan-eyed robot just stood there in the entry way as Tak stood there, cowering, but at the same time standing triumphant. She looked at the blood on her PAK legs, then to the host of cuts marring his shoulders. There were more shading his back that she could not see.

She lifted shaking, bloody fingers to her lips, her breath coming in quick little sobs.

"Tak, I can't force you to stay..."

"Good." she said. It was more of a gasp than a poker-faced statement, "A... A valiant effort, Dib human. No... No pointless mewling and begging."

_I'll beg if you want me to._ Dib thought, _I'm already on my knees. _He drew away from the wall, the little drops of blood tickling as it ran down his back, like red raindrops on a window, but he did not stand up. He had played his piece, what was done was done.

"You _can_ stay." he whispered.

"No." she hissed back, "Mimi? Leave him."

The red-eyed SIR unit had been sizing him up, prepareing for a second strike. He had to stop himself from pressing his forehead agianst the floor and begging. He had told himself he would not. At least, not with _words_. Besides, he had to watch her leave. She turned sharply on her heel as her SIR unit lept up, assuming its feline form as it lept on her shoulders. For a moment, Tak flickered, and her jade skin was replaced with light pink, and her eyes became human. She brushed her holographic hair behind her ear as she hoisted up her duffle bag.

"Good bye, Dib human."

* * *

[1.] You mean, you haven't _noticed that?_

-"You're a girl, you mean to tell us you have?"

Anyway, yeah, I need love songs in other languages now! Like, French, mainly.


End file.
